


Who even kidnaps a Sith anyway?

by ardentlyThieving



Series: Sith Hobbies and Imperial Interests [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Again what else is new?, Baras is a dick, F/M, Kidnapping, Rescue, The Imperial Army are dicks, What else is new though?, Za'i goes missing, at this point no spoilers for canon sw:tor content, not major ones at any rate, oh yea this is ummm late act 1 if anyone wants to know when abouts in the timeline it is, on freakin Tatooine, probably the most exciting thing to happen on Tatooine in years, so if you like this u should thank them in the comments and I'll let them know!!, sofa requested this idea and coz I love their art so much I was like yea sure!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentlyThieving/pseuds/ardentlyThieving
Summary: When Za'ien gets kidnapped on Tatooine it's up to the gang to save him.





	1. In which Za'i goes missing and Crisis investigates

**Author's Note:**

> That's right peeps, this time I'm trying an actual srs multi chapter fic!! I'm planning for this one to have 4 or 5 chapters and I'm intending for it to be largely sw:tor spoiler free so I'll let y'all know if either of those things change. In the meantime, I hope you guys enjoy!!!

Sand shifted under Za’ien’s feet as he continued his slow trek back through Mos Ila, towards the spaceport. It was well past dusk at this point, and the dimly lit streets were now empty; the desert dwelling citizens of Tatooine bundled up inside against the cold nights. The cold was a stark contrast to the sweltering heat when he’d originally set off, heat that was the reason he was alone now. Crisis coped well with the cold of planets like Hoth, but the tradeoff of that was her tendency to develop heatstroke extraordinarily quickly. And despite the fact that she was the only Chiss on his crew, Vette and Quinn had both made themselves scarce almost before he had landed the  _ Fury _ . So, considering the fact that Tatooine wasn’t exactly the most dangerous of worlds - hostile environment aside - he had opted to go alone. 

 

A choice that, for the first time, he was beginning to regret as his head grew fuzzy and his limbs became heavy. Kriff, he’d been so careful to stay hydrated as well. He slumped against a sandstone wall, reaching into his robes and withdrawing a half empty metal bottle of water. A few gulps later and the water was gone. As he tucked the bottle away again and ran his other hand over his mouth, he spotted movement out the corner of his eye. His left hand halted mid swipe, and he carefully lowered it to the hilt of his lightsaber, making sure the light glinted off it in a way that made it clear to any passers-by that he was Sith. 

 

Most people would have given him a wide berth. These two, and they were two, did not. As they approached his ears began to ring, and his vision started to blur - though not so much that he missed the lizard which was lazily slumped over one of the duo’s broad shoulders. They halted in front of him, just out of range of his lightsabers. He drew them anyway. The one without the lizard sighed and drew a blaster. “I suggest you surrender,” he said in a clipped Core World accent. Za’i took a step forward, hoping he looked steadier than he felt. Somehow he doubted this was the case; as the man opened fire. He blocked the first bolt, barely deflected the second and third. The fourth, however, caught him directly in the chest. The stun current tore through his body and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

Crisis wasn't worried. Sure, she was pacing the  _ Fury’s _ bridge with clipped, precise steps. And yes she had been looking out the window somewhat more anxiously than usual. But that didn't mean she was  _ worried _ . Just, a little concerned. Za’i had assured her that he would be fine; and who was she to doubt him? Besides someone who knew him that was. Her boots clicked against the metal floor as she continued to pace. 

 

A brisk cough cut through the air. Crisis halted, turning to look at the bridge’s other occupant. Captain Malavai Quinn, uniform pressed and hair tidy as always, watched her with the look of faint irritation he usually reserved for Vette. “I suggest you sit down before you wear a hole in the bridge. Za’ien will rejoin us soon, and I would prefer to have these calibrations completed by the time he does. So if you don't  _ mind _ ,” he finished, in a tone that informed her he didn't care whether she minded.

 

Crisis collapsed into a chair next to him, idly gnawing on her lower lip. “Try his holo?” she quietly requested.

 

Quinn let out a long, deep sigh, but reached for his own holocomm and sent out the call. Crisis’ shoulders tensed as the moment stretched out until - the call dropped. “He's obviously busy,” Quinn said before she had the chance to speak. 

 

She ignored him. “Try again.”

 

Another long sigh, and then Quinn offered her the holo. “I really _don't_ have time for this,” he informed her, going back to tweaking with the ship's computer as soon as she took it.

 

She dialed again then again, almost before the call had gone dead. This time someone picked up. But it wasn't Za'i. Instead she found herself looking into the face of a woman in the uniform of the Imperial military who had an ensign’s rank badge on her jacket.

 

“Why do you have this comm?” Crisis asked sharply. Quinn’s head shot up at that.

 

The woman gave her a bored look. “What’s your clearance?”

 

“Higher than yours,” Crisis snapped back.

 

The woman looked sceptical. Crisis let out a low growl before shoving the holo in Quinn’s direction. “You take it.”

 

Now Quinn seemed more than willing. “Captain Malavai Quinn, personal liaison to the Sith Za'ien. And unless you want to be reassigned to Hoth I suggest you tell me how you acquired his holocomm.  _ Quickly _ .”

 

She squeaked under the full force of Quinn's disdainful glare. “I- I don't know. Sir. One of the patrols brought it in a few minutes ago.” She shifted in her seat. “You could, you could come in! To the command center! Someone here’ll be able to tell you more!” 

 

Quinn let her stew for a moment, Crisis looking on. Then, “Thank you Ensign. We'll do that.” He ended the call and turned to the chiss. “Well Agent. It appears you were right. Shall we?”

 

Crisis sprang to her feet. “Let's hurry.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mos Ila’s Imperial command center was a round building which towered over the rest of the city. The pale sandstone bricks glowed faintly under the electric lights as the duo approached. Despite the late hour, many of the windows were still brightly lit up. No matter the world, the Empire never slept. Flanking the main entrance were two troopers, their once brightly polished armour streaked with sand. They both snapped off a salute at the sight of Quinn. “Sir,” they said in unison as the duo passed.

 

The traditional Imperial red and grey of the building’s interior was a stark contrast to the almost welcoming exterior. The temperature was carefully regulated. Although it was too high for Crisis tastes, she knew it was one humans found pleasant and almost certainly selected to boost efficiency. She kept on Quinn's heels as they moved down a hallway to the elevator bank. Despite how well lit the building was they ended up alone in the elevator.

 

Quinn turned to her. “Major Volsh is in charge of this outpost. Unfortunately he may not feel inclined to be helpful. He's a somewhat stubborn man, and a missing Sith is incredibly irregular.” 

 

Crisis smiled back, showing the tips of her fangs. “I'll let you speak to him first Captain. Maybe he'll help another military man.”

 

The look Quinn shot her in response revealed just how little he agreed with that statement, but at that moment they reached the fifth floor and the door opened with a quiet ding.

 

This floor was clearly where the higher ranking officers worked. For one thing it had an actual carpet, in deep red of course. For another the walls were lined with portraits of famous Imperial leaders and war heroes, the occasional Sith scattered among them. Crisis also guessed the roof was higher from the floor than on the other levels. As they made their way along, a couple of doors opened and closed behind harried looking low ranking officers who brushed past them without a word of apology. Finally they reached the door of Major Volsh. Quinn raised a fist to rap sharply on it, and a moment later it slid aside, allowing them to enter.

 

The Major’s office was a room befitting his status. The walls were lined with bookshelves, medals hanging on any free space. A large window took up most of the wall opposite the door although the curtains were currently drawn across it. In the centre of the room was a large desk in what appeared to be a very expensive wood, covered in various papers. And behind the desk sat the Major.

 

Volsh was a man in his early 50s. He was a bald man, but he had an impressive grey mustache which contrasted rather dramatically with his red face. Unlike many high ranking officers he was tall and muscular, although Crisis supposed you had to be in peak physical condition to last for long on Tatooine. Piercing green eyes looked Quinn up and down, twice before getting caught on Crisis’ face. He raised a hand. “Captain,” took a quick look at her rank badge, “Ensign. Please, take a seat. Can I offer you a drink?” he asked in the tone of one who hoped his visitors wouldn’t say yes. “Never mind, never mind. Whatever brings you to my office at this hour must be extremely important.”

 

Quinn leaned forward. “Major. We’re here about the holocomm one of your patrols found. We require access to the security footage of the area where it was found, so we can investigate what happened to its owner.”

 

“Ah. I’m sorry,” Volsh said, looking anything but. “Unfortunately I have already been contacted by a Darth Baras and informed that I am not to conduct an investigation into this matter. Something about his apprentice sorting out his own problems, you know how Sith are. So if there was nothing else, you two can see yourselves out.” He waved a hand dismissively, already turning away.

 

Now Crisis spoke up. “Did Darth Baras also tell you to interfere in a completely separate Intelligence investigation?”

 

He looked at her with his jaw set and irritation in his eyes. “If you’re an Intelligence Agent, I’m the Sith Emperor himself. Now get out of my office before I have you thrown out. And you, Captain. Control your al- underling. Her outburst in front of a superior reflects poorly on you.”

 

Crisis straightened her back, put on her coldest smile, and made sure the tips of her fangs were visible as she handed him her code cylinder. Volsh looked to Quinn, who nodded. “Indulge her, Major. Then you can have us thrown out the _window_ if you would _prefer_ that.”

 

He scanned it, lips curved in disdain. His eyes widened in disbelief, before he scoffed and scanned it again. And a third time. “Kriffing machine must be broken,” he muttered under his breath as he rebooted it then scanned the code cylinder for the fourth time. When the same result flashed up again, the colour drained from his face. Crisis took a petty pleasure in the way his hand shook as he handed the cylinder back to her. “My- my apologies Cipher. I didn’t- didn’t mean to insult you. Can’t be too careful, you know how it is,” he said, tone pleading. 

 

Crisis’ face showed that she did not, in fact, know how it was. “The footage, Major.”

 

He nodded, then gulped. “I’ll have it transferred to your datapad, right away. I’ll do it personally,” he continued as he raised his right hand to wipe away a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

 

She gave him her datapad. He took it and almost ran from the room. She inclined her head towards Quinn. “Well, that went smoothly enough.”

 

Quinn raised an eyebrow back. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

 

She shrugged in response. “Your point, Captain?” Then she helped herself to the Major’s whiskey. Quinn turned down a glass, but she noted the distinct lack of disapproving noises coming from him. Evidently he wasn’t Volsh’s biggest fan.

 

Volsh returned to the room then. He opened his mouth, she assumed to say something about the whiskey, but quickly closed it again. Instead he offered her the datapad and Za’i’s holocomm. “I think that’s everything you requested. Always happy to help Intelligence.” He shifted his weight, clasped his hands in front of him, shifted, unclasped his hands and reclasped them behind his back.

 

She let him stand there while she finished her glass. Then she stood, noting out of the corner of her eye that Quinn did the same. “Yes, that seems to be everything. I appreciate your  _ willing  _ and  _ eager  _ assistance in this matter,” she told him, a smile on her face as she accepted the datapad and holo. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” And with that she left the room, this time with Quinn on her heels.

 

 

* * *

 

Back on the ship she went straight to Za’i’s holoterminal and called Imperial Intelligence. A young human woman with dark skin and hair answered. “Cipher Nine? I’m Watcher Seven.” The Watcher looked down at a datapad, her brow furrowing. “You don’t seem to be scheduled in?”

 

“I’m not. I need you to analyse some footage for me, find out some identities. Sending it through now.”

 

Watcher Seven nodded in response. “I’ll contact you as soon as I have anything.”

 

“Thank you,” Crisis replied and ended the call. She wanted to slump down. Instead she pulled up her shoulders and held her chin high as she considered what to do now. The Watchers were brilliant people, but it would likely still be hours before she got a reply. But doing  _ nothing _ felt wrong. 

 

“Maybe you should go to bed?” suggested a voice to her left. Crisis turned to see Vette, the fourth member of their little crew. The twi’lek was looking at her with a hint of concern. “Anything that can hurt a Sith has gotta be a really  _ big  _ monster or something. And I don’t wanna die because you didn’t get enough sleep before fighting a huge monster.”

 

Crisis laughed weakly. “You’re right. I should rest. Is Quinn…”

 

“Captain Grumpy disappeared into his room as soon as you got back on the ship. Either he’s asleep or I don’t want to know what he’s doing.”

“Fine. Fine, good. You should sleep too,” Crisis told the other woman as she headed in the direction of her own room.

 

“Crisis?”

 

She paused in the open doorway. “Yes Vette?”

 

“We’re gonna find him. If anyone can it’s us. We’re the best team in the whole galaxy! Even with Quinn along.”

 

She laughed, and this time it was more genuine. “Goodnight Vette. And thank you.” 


	2. In which some answers are uncovered and a plan is hatched.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may not be the best plan, but sadly it's the only one our heroes have got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter this time and keeping with the multi PoV theme y'all are getting a Vette PoV. Still no sw:tor spoilers unless you count Vette and Quinn not liking each other as a spoiler. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy. This one's a little exposition heavy, but I promise more stuff is gonna happen next time :D

Precisely six hours later Crisis woke up. She was a highly regimented sleeper, with Vette often joking that the crew could set their clocks by her. But this time she hadn’t woken up naturally. Instead she had been roused by a sharp rap on her door and Quinn’s voice. “Cipher. We’re receiving a holocall for you. I’d advise you to join us quickly, before Vette frustrates them into hanging up.”

 

Crisis decided now was not the best time for a discussion on interpersonal relationships onboard the ship. “I’ll be right out,” she called as she untangled herself from her blankets and got her feet on the floor. “Lights, thirty percent,” she said reflexively while reaching for her uniform jacket before remembering that Za’i wasn’t here to whine at her for waking him up. She winced and decided to leave them as they were. As she slid her feet into her boots she finger combed her hair, then tied it back loosely and exited the room.

 

In the  _ Fury’s _ main room Vette slouched on a couch, head buried in the crook of her right arm. At the faint hiss of the door opening she raised a hand and waved it in Crisis’ vague direction. Quinn was already standing at perfect attention as far away from the twi’lek woman as he could get while still being in the room. And there on the holoterminal was Watcher Seven. 

 

The young human smiled faintly as Crisis approached, her brown eyes showing no signs of stress or exhaustion. “Good morning, Cipher.”

 

Crisis settled into parade rest in front of the holo and clasped her hands behind her back. “Watcher Seven. I’m surprised to hear from you so soon.” Surprised, and relieved, her mind filled in.

 

The Watcher nodded in acknowledgement. “I thought you would be. Turns out the other two from the security footage you sent me were easy to find. But you’re not going to like why.” She swiped her fingers across her datapad and her image shrunk down to allow the holoterminal to project two other lifeforms next to her. The frozen 3D models spun slowly. Both individuals were middle age Mirialans with blue eyes, but there the similarities ended. The figure on the left was a woman, tall, muscular, and dressed in heavy armour. Her face was covered in the black lines of geometric tattoos, behind which angry red burn scars stood out against her yellow-green skin. The figure on the right was male; shorter and more slender than his companion, with much greener skin. There were no scars visible on his face, and his own tattoos were limited to his cheeks. He was wearing armour than appeared both far lighter and far more expensive than what the woman was wearing. 

 

“She’s Drexia Morlev, merc for hire. A lot of confirmed kills to her name, and she’s worked for near half the galaxy at some point. Not much of a lead on her own, but the key to discovering his identity.” Another swipe of the Watcher’s fingers over her datapad and the woman vanished, bringing the man to take up the entirety of his half of the holo. “Her occasional associate, Dast Zoni. Hell of a man to find on his own, but once I had his name I used it to find employment history and - this is the part you’re not going to like. He’s the personal ‘enforcer’ of Damian Andrim.”

 

“Andrim, that’s a Kuatian name, right?” Crisis asked, suppressing the urge to bite her lip. She settled for pressing her nails into her palms, behind her back where no one could see.

 

“Not just Kuatian. He’s one of The Ten families. Eccentric, reclusive, filthy rich. Never leaves the planet. And I’m afraid that’s all I can give you. An assault on Kuat would be a violation of the Treaty of Coruscant, and with the Sith staying firmly uninvolved we have no reason to disregard that.” A flicker of emotion showed in her eyes. “I’m sorry Cipher.” And with that the call fizzled out.

 

Crisis wanted to scream. She wanted to kick the holoterminal until it broke and tear the rest of the ship apart. Instead she turned on her heels and walked back to her room with forced calmness. “I’m going to find us a way in,” she declared, her tone glacially cold. Then she let the door slide shut behind her.

 

* * *

 

Vette hovered outside the door to Za’i’s room. About five minutes ago Crisis had gone sprinting into it, datapad clutched tightly in one hand, and she hadn’t come back out. And while she preferred the Agent’s company to Quinn’s enough that she’d hoped she would emerge from her room, this hadn’t been exactly what she’d meant. Speaking of Captain Grumpy, he was currently hovering next to her left shoulder while trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t. They exchanged a look that was equal parts concerned and hopeful, then realized what they were doing and both looked away very quickly. Quinn scoffed. Vette mimicked it mockingly, taking a step away from the door as she did so. She gestured towards it. “Uptight Imps first.”

 

Quinn scoffed again, but led the way into the room. Vette followed close behind, glaring at his stupidly tidy hair and ready to duck down behind him if their Chiss friend started throwing things. The woman in question was currently half underneath Za’i’s bed, datapad on the floor next to her. “What,” Quinn asked, tone dripping with bemusement, “are you doing?” Vette poked him in the back. His shoulders shot back tightly, and she winced as he stepped on her foot.

 

“Found it!” They barely had time to register the not-really-an-answer before Crisis slipped out from under the bed and waved one of Za’i’s old lightsabers at them, the one Vette recognised instantly due to it being his  _ only  _ lightsaber with a green crystal instead of a more traditional Sith colour.

 

“We’re happy for you. Really, we are. But what does that,” she pointed at the lightsaber, “have to do with anything?”

 

Crisis’ eyes flashed happily, or at least Vette  _ hoped  _ it was a happy flash. “Because the esteemed Damian Andrim won’t talk to any of us. But I did some research of my own, and he might talk to a Jedi.”

 

The Twi’lek considered this. “You won’t look good in brown robes.” Quinn shot a look at her and she shrugged. “She won’t.”

 

He sighed, sounding like the weight of the galaxy was on his shoulders. “What I think Vette  _ means _ to say is, what sort of plan  _ is _ this? You lock yourself in your room for  _ days _ , then start spouting nonsense about Jedi. Forgive me if I fail to see the connection.”

 

“Forgiven,” Crisis shot back. “Look. It’s a long shot, I know. But I kept seeing Andrim’s name connected to suspected force users. Ones who weren’t part of the Jedi or the Sith. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe there’s a connection there; even if Za’i is an actual Sith. I like to think I’m  _ good _ at undercover missions. So let me try this, and then we can try your plan.”

 

“What plan?” Quinn muttered, quietly enough that Vette barely heard him. She kicked him anyway.

  
Crisis continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “So let’s set a course for Dromund Kaas. It’s time for us to find a less  _ conspicuous  _ ship.


	3. In which we make it to Kuat and a crime is committed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stage one of the plan is executed, with a few minor hurdles.

The deep blue of hyperspace stretched by Crisis’  _ Phantom _ as far as the eyes of any of its occupants could see. In contrast to Za’i’s TIE reminiscent vessel the  _ Phantom _ was an expensive yacht, on the outside at least, all sleek and shiny grey lines and rounded edges. And very close inspection or an expert eye revealed the numerous modifications to make it a highly combat effective ship in the hands of even a half-decent pilot. The living quarters had been stripped back to make room for upgraded engines and advanced shielding tech, and while the guns  _ appeared _ exclusively for self defense, anyone unlucky enough to be engaged in combat would be hit with the firepower of a much larger ship. Vette had squealed with glee once she saw what ship they would be taking and even Quinn had looked impressed. Right up until the moment Crisis told him Vette would be flying.

 

Not that it had stopped him from taking his usual position of standing stiffly to attention on the bridge. Where he appeared to have spent most of his time over the last week ‘advising’ Vette’s piloting. Crisis assumed so at least. She’d spent as little time on the bridge as possible; instead perfecting her Jedi impression, making the lightsaber and not-quite robes appear as natural as she could, and practicing quick-drawing the weapons she had concealed in the outfit. And drinking copious amounts of caf.

 

She was halfway through her - actually she’d lost count - cup of the energizing beverage when she felt the telltale shudder of the  _ Phantom  _ coming out of hyperspace. She abandoned her mug on the bench and dashed for the bridge. “Quinn, loosen up,” she shot out, sliding into the room. “And Vette, you remember the cover we discussed, right?” Quinn grumbled quietly to himself, but he also sat down and stopped tugging on the sleeves of his civilian shirt. 

 

Vette didn’t look up from the computer. “Yea, I’ve got it. Captain Grumpy tells the nice customs officer how he’s here to visit some very distant, very  _ rich _ , relatives. Then they ask for our papers, and I send over the fake ones your Watcher friend made for us. You’ve only reminded us - oh, 50 times over our trip here?”

 

“You have to convince them to let us onto the  _ surface _ . That’s where Za’i will hopefully be.”

 

“And that’s why for the next few minutes Malavai Quinn is becoming Malavai Depon.” Vette’s tone softened, “Don’t worry, we’ve  _ got  _ this. So you’d better get out of sight before I open up this comms channel or we’re gonna have to deal with some very awkward questions.” She took a hand from the console to make shooing motions in Crisis’ direction. Crisis took the hint and left the room to rejoin her caf.

 

* * *

 

 

Time passed. At some point the caf ran out. Crisis continued to hold the empty mug, frozen on the couch. Except for the lip biting, which she started in earnest. It wasn’t just the difficulty of gaining access to Kuat’s surface: it was the  _ helplessness  _ she felt while waiting to hear if the others had pulled it off. It was the knowledge that the plan wasn’t even all that good while also being their one chance. She wanted to pace the room, but even forcing herself to stand seemed impossible. And part of her wondered if the lack of sleep was catching up to her. A soft groan escaped her mouth as she tipped back her head to rest on the smooth back of the couch. The swish of the door opening reached her ears and she tensed up, finger tracing the top of her mug as she looked up to see Quinn. 

 

She searched his face with her glowing eyes. Quinn was usually all hard angles, tight politeness masking irritation. But today his face was positively lit up with a smile that reached his eyes. “Vette is taking us to the surface now.” If his expression and words hadn’t screamed their success, the fact that his tone sounded  _ exhilarated  _ was proof enough.

 

Crisis found herself on her feet when the sharp noise of the mug shattering shook her back into herself. “Ah, kriff,” she spat out as she bent to pick up the pieces, forcing herself to be careful despite the rush of adrenaline now soaring through her. 

 

Quinn, in yet another uncharacteristic display of good humour, looked  _ amused.  _ “I suggest you calm down, Agent. It’ll be another half hour or so before we land, and none of us want to see you burn out before  _ reaching _ Za’ien.”

 

She snorted in response as she gathered up the last of the shards, and playfully bumped him with her elbow as she moved to dispose of them. He shot her a faux-wounded look and rubbed his arm. “With elbows that sharp it’s a wonder you need vibroknives.”

 

She beamed back innocently. “It always pays to be prepared, Captain. Don’t they teach you  _ anything _ in the military?”

 

He scoffed. “We’ve got half an hour. Why don’t I  _ show  _ you how I learned to fight?”

 

She bowed dramatically. “Be my guest,” she replied, darting out of the way of his first punch. 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Vette landed the ship Crisis had won four matches to Quinn’s two. They both relied on being fast rather than strong, and she was slightly faster. Their sparring had the added benefit of leaving her pleasantly calm as Vette joined them. She shook her head at the pair. “And you tell  _ me  _ not to fight him,” she joked.

 

“Because I would win,” Quinn shot back. 

 

“More like because she doesn’t want me to mess up your precious hair.” Vette’s tone, while still joking, had taken on a nasty edge.

 

“Alright you two, that’s  _ enough, _ ” Crisis interjected, eyes flashing. “You both know what to do from here?” she asked, in a tone that made it very clear they’d better say yes. 

 

Luckily for the fate of the rescue mission they both nodded. “Hang out in the ship, don’t kill each other,” Vette started.

 

“On your signal we provide either air support or a pick up depending on what you need,” Quinn finished.

 

Crisis bit her lip. “Guess we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.” A faint buzzing rang out from the bridge. “And just in time to. Looks like we’ve got visitors.”

 

Quinn, ever the practical one, headed for the  _ Phantom’s _ entrance to greet the Kuatian officials. Vette hovered behind. “Good luck.”

 

Crisis saluted lazily. “Thanks.” A grin spread across her face. “Tell Quinn if I don’t make it back you get the ship.” She flicked her stealth generator on before Vette had the chance to reply.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Getting off the ship was easy. The routine inspection team were focused on keeping the supposed Depon happy, not watching out for infiltrators, and even if they had been she was very good at her job. Getting through the spaceport was harder. It was small and empty as far as space ports went, but it also had far too many cameras. Cameras which were potentially equipped with thermo-vision and would therefore render her cloaking useless. Still, there were always windows if you knew how to look for them.

 

As she ducked around a corner and crouched behind a crate Crisis reflected on how much easier it would’ve been to just announce herself. Of course, the risk there had been if a  _ real  _ Jedi was also on Kuat, and had wanted to meet with her. She was talented, but not  _ that  _ talented. And her story was more believable this way. The fewer traces of her presence on this planet the better. She sprinted full pace across the room, throwing herself around another corner just before the latest camera turned back. There, up ahead, was the exit to the spaceport. And of course it just  _ had  _ to have kriffing  _ scanners. _

 

Options, she needed options. Sprint through the scanners and hope she didn’t get stunned by a lucky shot was one. Find another exit was another, but that meant taking her chances with the cameras again. Chucking a rock to distract the guards was the sort of thing that only worked in holodramas, and there were no convenient rocks lying around anyway. Killing them would raise far too much attention, and uncloaking herself would lead to awkward questions. She took advantage of the empty hallway around her to sigh deeply. It seemed that running through would be her best bet. 

 

She approached quietly, not wanting to reveal her presence until absolutely necessary. She hovered on her side of the scanner for a moment and watched the guards carefully. Once they seemed as distracted as they were going to get she took a deep breath in and darted through, veering sharply to the right to press against the wall as hard as she could. 

 

The scanner blared as soon as she passed through it. Both guards snapped to alert, drawing their blasters and opening fire on the space beyond, leaving the telltale marks of stun bolts. Blue light filled the air directly in front of the scanner, but never reached far enough to the side to hit her. After a few seconds of this, the firing stopped. The two guards held their blasters in their hands and looked around, then at each other. One shrugged sheepishly. “Guess the blasted thing’s malfunctioning again,” she said. 

 

The other woman was already pulling out a comm. “And the techs  _ swore  _ they’d fixed it right. Lazy lying doshers. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, you can’t trust the bantha fodder that comes out of a tech’s mouth.”

 

Crisis left them to their griping and slipped out the building. Based on the map she’d poured over, Andrim’s estate was too far to walk to in the time she had. However, based on how isolated this spaceport was she had assumed there would be speeders around to ‘borrow’ and was gratified to note that this was the case. Several speeders were scattered around in some semblance of an employee parking area. 

 

She approached a bike that was a reasonable distance from the building. It was an older model, but a reliable one. Decently fast too. This next bit would have to be fast. Luckily, Vette had shown her a trick to push a speeder past its limits for a short amount of time, although leave it too long and they were liable to blow up. With one last glance around to make sure the coast was clear she dropped the cloaking and began fiddling with the engine, hoping desperately that no one would exit the building.

 

A couple of tense minutes later and she was done. She climbed onto it and set off, wincing at the noise it made starting up. Still, Vette’s trick worked and by the time anyone thought to investigate she was a tiny blur on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I promised more action and hopefully this chapter lived up to it! espc coz I think I burned my food I got so wrapped up in writing it :( #ripArden
> 
> leave an F in the comments if u enjoyed, or just wanna pay respects to my dedication


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